


You Wake Up With Him On Your Mind

by ThefanderfamILY



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, Happy, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin loves his king, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 02:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefanderfamILY/pseuds/ThefanderfamILY
Summary: You learn not to mind his morning breath.





	You Wake Up With Him On Your Mind

You wake up with him on your mind. You do most mornings nowadays. Although this morning... it seems particularly inevitable. Maybe it's the golden light streaming in through the curtains, simultaneously warming you and casting a sunset hue over the too-lavish bedspread. Or maybe it's the season. Midwinter; the time of year that's not quite yule and not quite Autumn- one of your very favourite times. Or maybe it's because he's actually here. Laying across from you in a pristine picture of elegance, his hair draped and spiked in every unruly direction and a thick string of drool dripping from his open, snoring mouth. "Not a very kingly way to sleep," you muse, and with the observation comes memories of un-kingly confessions from the previous night. Tears in the eyes of the man that you love, then tears in yours- of a different kind; tears of joy. And he's confused and scared and he closes up his expression and wipes off his tears, clearing his throat coldly. But you don't give him time to put his walls back up, because then there's memories of feverish kisses and an endless stream of "I love you"s, usually with something like 'prat' or 'clotpole' or 'Merlin' tagged onto the end and god- you could get used to hearing your name like that. And it seems you already have, because he's waking up and wiping his kissable lips and murmuring your name again. A question, this time, so you whisper his back in turn. It feels surreal. Like a dream wrapped in another universe wrapped in a paradoxical box behind a door at the end of a hallway that gets longer and longer as you try desperately to reach the end, but, when he kisses you like he did before, like you hope he will every morning for the rest of your lives, the dream becomes real once more. His breath tastes of sex and wine and his dinner of pork and cheese and bread but you know, deep in your heart, that you're stuck with him. And there's nowhere you'd rather be.


End file.
